


My thirst will dick on

by Liffis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, gratituous enjoyment of giving head, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liffis/pseuds/Liffis
Summary: Usually, Sasha doesn't look at other dicks in the locker room, but Nicke's dick is an exception, alright. It's a good dick. A great one.Or: Sasha is so, so, so thirsty. And some thirsts need a Cup to be quenched, or something.(He gets the dicking and a hands-on (mouth-on?) explanation on why Nicke really deserves the nickname "big dick Nick")(A _very_ good time is had by everyone.)





	My thirst will dick on

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year, may it be full of joyful dicks (or whatever else you're into)(here you're definitely gonna get the dick part, because hello 2019)!
> 
> (Originally filled on The Sin Bin / Hockey Kink Meme. Except this one here involves a lot more dicking down.)

Sasha doesn’t explicitly look at other guys‘ cocks in the locker room. It’s just bad style. 

Also, by the time he’d realized he was as gay as the sky was blue, dicks in locker rooms had long, long, LONG since lost their hotness. There was just no way to re-wire his brain into considering this even so much as lukewarm.

Not after having smelled years upon years upon years of stinking, sweaty, damp hockey gear. 

Some things couldn’t be undone, even by gayness to a maximum extent. – Not even so much as looking, for Sasha. 

Dicks have turned into something like the newest, juiciest locker room gossip: interesting, and he will absolutely check it out, but that’s it, he isn’t invested. He has porn, at home, and enough ideas to get off in new and pleasing ways. 

He still has a rough idea of the dicks surrounding him, of course, and by now he’s been playing in teams for a long enough time to recognize people by dick alone. Perks of being a constant part of teams, probably, and Sasha’s not too proud to be able to do that.

Has its perks when accidentally someone drunk-posts a dick pic in their group chat and implies sending it to their latest fling and no one, absolutely no one in the group chat speaks up. – No one except Sasha, and when he does, it takes him whopping one-and-a-half hours to get the stupiditiy contained. 

When he checks Nicke’s feed, the last log-in date reads some three-ish hours ago, which…explains a lot. 

He tries to just – not think about Nicke’s dick and on most days, he even succeeds.

 

The biggest problem about putting a lot of men, who play a testosterone-laden sports, into one single locker room, after an extensive workout – everyone gets naked. And because secretly, they’re all still twelve or something, the talks at some point, sooner or later, always circle back to dicks. And because there is just enough rotation and transferring, some realizations crop up like waves: regularly, messily, and hitting you out of nothing.

Sasha’s kept count until twenty, then he stopped taking notice about how often exactly people were astonished by Nicke’s dick. Probably a good thing he doesn’t speak much Swedish beyond some nasty expletives about the amount of goats involved in someone’s ancestry. And saying sorry for not speaking Swedish, but on that, he isn’t sure, because Nicke’s always laughing himself silly at his attempts, so mostly, Sasha sticks to his Russian and butchering up some English. 

Sometimes, however, he hates how much English he understands, because he really really really is tired of hearing about Nicke’s dick. It’s always the same. Like boys, they always ask the same questions. Some years, the newsbies are even baffled enough to ask Nicke to demonstrate – at which point Sasha had to step in and stop them.

But he’s seen Nicke’s face, okay. Despite all the annoyance Nicke displays on the outside, despite all the grumbling and all the façade about how he didn’t want to make a big deal out of his cock –

The fucker is absolutely pleased at how everyone’s staring at his cock and commenting about this.

Abso-fucking-lutely pleased and very satisfied, what the fuck. It’s the absolutely least Nicke-like thing Sasha can imagine, but there it is: he’s humoured by the dick-talking, and after a few times, Sasha even notices how Nicke just so happens to pick a towel just that tad too small to wrap around his hips. (Which is to say: every normal-sized towel. Sasha’s kept track.)

And then, like clockwork, the newbies will stare. And whisper. And some brave soul will ask. 

Listen, Sasha himself wants to ask a lot of questions, about Nicke’s cock, and if Nicke so much as implied into liking colleagues sucking his cock, Sasha would be down for it in a heartbeat. Literally. Fuck every rule of never shacking it up with colleagues due to implied messiness – Nicke’s dick. Made everything a) worth it and b) better. 

But Nicke hadn’t, beyond this quietly pleased face at other people’s surprise at his dick. 

And it’s. A nice dick. Probably the best one Sasha has ever had the joy of seeing – and he’s seen a lot of dick in his career already, even without all the being gay thing. So he’s a pretty good judge of dick, and Nicke’s is great. 

Greater than Sasha’s even, no joke. Sasha knows his dick is…above and beyond standards, but Nicke’s? Yeah, compared to that – no, wait, nothing compares to THAT.

It’s a great dick. A perfect dick. One absolutely made to write – or moan, really – perfectly obscene things about.

If said dick wasn’t attached not only to a colleague – but to Nicke. 

Nicke.

That is a problem.

Because with literally any other guy, Sasha would’ve gotten off while thinking of said dick, or would’ve fucked himself with a nice dildo just that big…whatever, it happened, he’s only mortal and so, so gay. – But Nicke. Nicke is. 

Listen, Sasha cannot afford being in a serious case of emotions for another man. Not even here, in America – men are off limits, full stop. He’s skirting the edge of it as it is: at the moment, it can all be explained away as a cultural thing. Russians, everyone says and tsks and shakes their head, Russians just were like that. Of course. And some of it is due to – Russians, or whatever, Sasha really doesn’t care too much about American standards of when it was okay to touch men in heterosexual ways.

Because he isn’t heterosexual, but what he is is terribly gay and wanting to put his hands (and the rest of his body too, who is he lying at) all on and over Nicke. 

Because Nicke’s dick is extremely impressive and very, very great – but compared to the whole package (pun not intended)(or is it?), Nicke’s dick is probably the least impressive things. Nicke is just great like that. Sasha could spend weeks, probably, just waxing love poems about Nicke. And then just re-waxing them, just because Nicke deserves that. That, and so, so much more. 

And if there’d been even the tiniest, smallest, most miniscule indication ever that Nicke could hypothetically be interested in another men – Sasha would’ve sucked Nicke’s cock faster than Nicke could’ve said “yes do it” or whatever. He can admit as much. He totally would’ve. Or he’d bent over, whatever Nicke would’ve preferred. And considering the size of Nicke’s dick, that’s saying a lot for Sasha’s ass. (It’s still clenching in thrilled anxiety at the mere thought of – taking that. Right up the.)(Sasha does not have a lot of experience with dicks of *that* size but fuck it, he’s very willing to learn.)

Point being: Nicke’s never said anything about men, so Sasha very carefully hadn’t, either. Although he hadn’t particularly kept it a secret that he sometimes disappears with men. Never dates, though, because – getting banged by men is much, much easier to manage when you’re still caught up in. Well. Feelings. Ish. As long as Sasha doesn’t look too closely at it, he doesn’t have to put a name nor label on it and this is probably better that way. 

After all, being in love stops being cute and romantic when it’s been over a decade being stupidly terribly utterly in love with your best friend. – There are some gay clichés Sasha hates from the bottom of his heart, and this is the worst one: being the one gay guy who falls in love with his straight best friend. 

In conclusion: Sasha doesn’t date around, but sometimes has a short-ish fling. Sasha also keeps Nicke as his best friend and they don’t talk about gay things, ever. Sasha also tries to keep all interest, be it his own or others’, about Nicke’s very shapely dick at bay.

Mostly, it works.

Nicke doesn’t ask and Sasha doesn’t offer any informations on how he likes dicks and it works. It works. It works well. As well as this combination of straight-and-serious and gay-and-in-love can work.

That is to say: as long as neither analyses it too much nor sneezes at this combination, all is well.

But then the Caps win the Cup and it’s off. 

It’s all off, and Christ, Sasha has never wanted to suck Nicke’s cock as much as he does. Nicke is beaming, he is the sun, he is radiant, he is happy. His eyes. Christ, his eyes. He is so bright. Sasha doesn’t know what to do with all this happiness and joy bubbling under his skin, except Nicke is there and Nicke, glorious, glorious Nicke, looks as happy as Sasha feels, and. And he looks so good and this, this Cup, their win, they did it, so many years, but they did it.

And Sasha wants to cup Nicke’s head and kiss him, kiss the champagne and joy and the win off of Nicke’s lips and he wants to make him smile like this all the time, except there is no all the time with this joy, and it’s so much to feel, and it’s Nicke, and it’s all –

It’s blurring together, a perpetual celebration, and so, so much alcohol.

And so many smiles. Laughter.

Sasha doesn’t know when it happens. Could be a few hours after the win, could be a few days after the win, he has no idea.

Except the cameras are away, for once, as much as they are, after the Cup.

Nicke is next to him, as always, like he’s been from the beginning. So much time, they’ve grown up together, have spent the majority of their careers together; Nicke has always been by his side. Nicke. It’s always been Nicke. 

With the Cup, it’s also always been Nicke. Nicke who got the Cup as the second person, of course, what kind of question was that. Nicke. It always came back to Nicke. Who else. 

And Nicke’s there, wide eyes, lips stretched into a smile, beaming, even beer-drenched and smelling like alcohol, like joy, a victor.

He kisses him.

It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, he kisses him. Has to kiss him.

It just fits the mood, it’s the perfect thing for how he feels, Nicke’s there, Nicke’s happy. He needs to taste it. 

Under his lips, Nicke stills. Too silent, for this celebration. It deflates Sasha’s happiness like a sad balloon, left over, forgotten, lukewarm.

Nicke’s eyes are not crinkled in joy anymore, instead he’s looking at Sasha, with this intense look, this – the way he looks when he looks at opponents: where does he need to hit to make it crumble? Where to twist and turn and tear to shape it to his wants and needs? 

Sasha swallows heavily. The party noises are far, far away.

“Is it a one-time thing?”, Nicke asks, quietly. 

He smells like stale beer, and looks so, so serious. Nothing compared to the radiancy before. Sasha is sad that one kiss could tear this off so much.

And he wants to lie: of course it’s a one-time thing only, of course. He’s met enough straight men who were what they dubbed “bi-curious”, wanting to get their dick wet and willing to do it with a man as long as that “didn’t mean anything” or was “just because of the booze” or whatever bullshit-ass excuses straight men gave themselves to let themselves believe in their straight little utopia. Whatever. Sasha’s grown beyond this bullshit before he hit his twenties. He deserves better than those who want him just as their personal dirty little secret, ashamed of wanting him as much as they do. 

And Nicke is another thing altogether, another league. Something else.

“No.”, he says, grinds it out, digs it out from behind his ribs, the soft spot he’s usually so well-hidden.

But it’s Nicke, and Sasha has always been so, so bad at keeping things secret from him. (Except the gayness, but that, that could easily explained away, always.)

But Nicke.

Nicke, who stares at him, looking for something.

Sasha keeps very, very still, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap the wrong way.

Until Nicke smiles, a slight one, barely more than an uptick of his lips.

“Good.”, is all he says, “Let’s party some more.”

And Sasha would be disappointed – except Nicke puts his hand on Sasha’s thigh, a sure grip, warm; in such a way that just cannot be a coincidence or a mistake. Nicke leaves it there the whole night, not moving it away – and too high up to be a mere friendly thing. 

This was. A thing. Sasha had no idea what exactly it was, but it was not a thing Nicke could legitimately “no homo” his way out, and that, that was something that was completely new, unexpected, throwing him for a loop. Nicke had never ever, as long as Sasha had known him, made any indications that he was into men, into Sasha, for God’s sake, Sasha was entering completely new territory on this.

But as always, Nicke is the calming presence next to him, never wavering, never stumbling, always safe. Always next to his side, the strength Sasha needs but not always knows how to ask for.

So he stays and drinks and allows himself to wrap an arm around Nicke’s shoulders, and, later in the evening, slip his arm lower, around Nicke’s stomach. In turn, Nicke slightly squeezes Sasha’s thigh. – But he doesn’t go. The whole night, he stays.

In the end, they stumble to a hotel room – their hotel room? Sasha’s? Nicke’s? -, together. It looks and smells like any other hotel room of any other travel, and Sasha is so, so terribly drunk. He tries to get out of his shoes, but it’s. Difficult.

Next to him, Nicke laughs, quietly. And. He’s still there. And that has to mean something, right? 

Sasha lets go of his shoe – foot? Whatever. Next to him, there’s Nicke. Wide eyes, glassy, drunk, fizzy, happy, like him. 

“Nicke.”, he says, cups Nicke’s face, with some difficulties.

“Sasha.”, Nicke says, in a similar voice, and –

Kisses him, twisting until Sasha roughly bumps against – a wall, or something, hard against his back, whatever – Nicke’s tongue is in his mouth, hot and wet and persistant and kissing him, Christ, he grabs Nicke’s ass, pulling him tightly against himself.

“Yes”, he grunts, when he can get enough air into his lungs, and Nicke’s biting something in Swedish against Sasha’s sweat- and beer-slicked throat.

“Come on”, and maybe he hasn’t completely managed to get that one out, because Nicke kisses him, again, and this time it’s like he wants to melt Sasha’s brain right out of the skull, like he wants Sasha just as much, like he needs Sasha just as much as Sasha wants him: like not getting him would kill him, rip him apart.

“Let’s”, is all Nicke manages to say, with a rough voice, and the rest, Nicke says with his tongue, in a way that makes Sasha’s toes curl.

They manage to undress. A bit, at least, ripping the shirts? Dress shirts? Something. On their upper body. Off. Gone. Nicke’s back is bare under Sasha’s greedy hands, the curve of his back so utterly lovely, Sasha wishes he could suck love bites all over the skin, licking the sweat off of Nicke until Nicke was pulling at his hair, cursing him, all languages and hope lost. Pulling his hair, and. Oh. Yes. 

“Wanna suck you.”, he grunts, rubbing his cock against Nicke’s, and it’s such a temptation, really. He can feel the bulge in Nicke’s pants, all hard. All ready, for him, as soon as he’ll get to open these pants, and then he can…

Nicke’s eyes are pale, even in the dim light of the dark room, as if he waits for Sasha to deliver a punchline that will never ever happen.

“Yeah”, he – gets out, as soon as he gets it, “Yeah, let’s – I’ll – “, and that’s. That’s unexpected. Nicke is always so much in control and calm and unruffled, even by the biggest shit throw their way, but this, Sasha sucking his cock, that gets Nicke like this? 

Sasha bites his lips and waits until Nicke sits on the bed, legs spread. With his pants and that hard-on, it looks obscene. Even without any more bare skin, Sasha could come, if given enough time and the option to rub off against Nicke. God, why is Nicke so hot, Christ, he wants to rub off against Nicke’s sweat-slicked skin, wants to suck hickey all over him, wants to suck on those lovely little nipples and bite on Nicke’s thick thighs and so, so much more, it’s too much to properly list beyond an intense wanting.

Except.

Except Nicke is looking at him, waiting for him to…so he does.

Kneels between Nicke’s legs, hands on Nicke’s thighs. 

“You sure?”, Nicke asks, and cups Sasha’s head, it’s almost gentle, almost as if he worries. Maybe Nicke’s size? Who knows. Sasha doesn’t, because this is roughly the culmination of at least half a dozen masturbation fantasies he’s had over the years.

“Very sure.”, he says, as emphatically as he can, and opens Nicke’s pants.

It’s slightly tricky, because it’s a zipper, and apparently Nicke hasn’t bothered with underwear. 

Sasha really, really, really wants to come in his pants at the view. Nicke’s cock is so gorgeous, he could cry. Or wax poetics about it, Christ. 

He pulls Nicke’s cock completely free and can feel his mouth water. This got to be the most perfect cock he’s ever had the joy of seeing right before him, fuck. 

He wraps his hand around the base of it and sucks it down, as deep as he can take it, until the tip is an almost uncomfortable pressure in his throat and he has to fight a cough. Tears spring up in the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t let go. His mouth is full, and Nicke’s cock is heavy on his tongue, slightly salty, a good taste. He groans and tries to suck it deeper. He needs it deeper, in his throat, needs it, needs it, needs it. Fuck, he needs Nicke as deep as he can get him, until he cannot forget it, never. 

Above him, Nicke curses a blue streak, pulling at his hair, trying to get him off, and after the bite at his scalp is getting too much, he relents and pulls off. Nicke’s cock pops off his lips with an obscenely wet noise.

“Fuck, Sasha, what are you doing –“, he starts, but the words die when Sasha licks his lips.

“You want this.”, Nicke finally realizes.

Sasha nods, and the almost harsh grip in his hair loosens.

“You want this”, Nicke repeats, almost in wonder. Sasha kisses his palm, his arm, chest, stomach, until he is, finally, back where he wants to be: between Nicke’s legs, and. Nicke’s cock. 

Nicke is hard, and like this, his cock is even more gorgeous than when he’s just soft. Sasha has thought Nicke’s cock was gorgeous while soft, but it’s nothing on this. Nothing. Flushed like this, swollen, hard, Sasha can only kiss it, press wet kisses from root to tip, interspersed with some licks, everything, to get a feeling for it. Get a taste of this. 

And then, finally, he sucks it in, again, it’s a fine balance to deny himself this until he cannot take it any longer and needs the wet weight of Nicke’s cock on his tongue, stretching his lips, his mouth, his throat. Taking the cock until he cannot, until he has to force himself to breathe slowly, regularly, just to take it that tiny bit deeper, swallowing around it, feeling both precome and spit dripping down his chin.

He groans and closes his eyes, tears trickling from his eyes.

“Stop when it does not feel good.”, Nicke orders him, with a quiet voice.

But his hands are buried in Sasha’s hair, gentle but persistant. Sasha could let go of Nicke’s cock immediately, if he wanted to, could get free as soon as the fancy stroke him.

He doesn’t want to – actually, letting go would be the exact opposite of what he wants at this moment. 

He looks up into Nicke’s eyes – and tries to take Nicke’s cock deeper, tongue pressing against the underside of it, except he can’t take it deeper, he gags around it, throat spasming around the tip, and he can feel more tears, except it’s so good, Christ, Nicke’s cock is so huge.

“Fuck, Sasha.”, Nicke breathes and pushes a thumb into Sasha’s mouth.

And it’s too much, his mouth is full with Nicke’s cock, he has to let go of him, sucks in a deep breath, swallows – or tries to, at least. The spit drips from his mouth, especially now that Nicke’s thumb has him keep his mouth open –

It’s so good he has to rub himself, through his pants, and he feels like a life wire. He could. Like this. Fuck, he sure could. Especially if Nicke’s grip in his hair would tighten and he’d push Sasha just that tiny bit down –

But Nicke doesn’t, his grip tight, but only because he is probably just as close as Sasha.

Sasha gasps and lets go of Nicke’s cock, letting it slip from his mouth. 

And Christ, it’s a gorgeous cock: dark red and flushed and so, so hard. Sasha wants it in his mouth, wants it as deep as it can go, wants himself stretched out on it, wants to take it, wants to make it feel good, for Nicke – and for himself, too, he just knows it would feel good if he could take it. Just barely, but he could, and Nicke would whisper sweet nothings into his ears, because who else could take it as well?

But when he moves to suck it down again, the grip in his hair tightens.

“Slow.”, Nicke orders him and keeps him where he wants him, with both hands, this time.

Obediently, Sasha sucks the tip between his lips – and can feel his mouth water at the prospect of what will await him, soon. But not yet, apparently, because Nicke keeps him right there. Just the tip. So Sasha sucks just the tip, licks the precoma, dips his tongue under Nicke’s foreskin, teasing Nicke’s cock. A sweet promise on how good exactly he could make this feel like – if only he was allowed.

Slowly, almost glacially slow, Nicke allowed him deeper – but as soon as Sasha tried to suck him down greedily, Sasha got pulled back. But fuck, he needed it. He needed it, needed Nicke’s cock, he needed it, now, in his mouth, fuck, why was Nicke playing like that.

But Nicke didn’t waver. Only if Sasha took the cock gently, sucking him softly, letting himself take it, did Nicke allow him more. It took an age, and the only reason why Sasha didn’t rip himself loose and just swallow it down was how pained Nicke himself looked: he looked as if he wanted to bury himself in Sasha’s throat just as much as Sasha wanted him to. He looked as if this felt good, as if this was what made him feel perfect, and –

And that was exactly what Sasha wanted, even more than he wanted Nicke’s cock.

So he kept still and followed Nicke’s grip. He even kept off of jerking himself, even though his own cock was dripping precoma and he felt close to bursting due to all the teasing. 

Until the tip of Nicke’s cock got close to Sasha’s throat. Which spasmed, reflexively. 

Nicke immediately stilled, withdrawed – which, in turn, made Sasha whine, high and almost pathetically. Nicke murmured – no, hissed something under his breath, and even slower, he made Sasha take his cock. 

At an almost glacial pace, he fucked his cock into Sasha’s mouth, and right before Sasha could’ve signed him that his throat would – any moment now – he stopped. And stayed.

Sasha swallowed – or tried to, at least, making a mess of it and trying to swallow it, without success. And Nicke stayed, even though Sasha wanted him to move, Christ, would it be desperate to beg him to just fuck Sasha’s mouth, or fuck himself by gripping Nicke’s thighs, anything.

Except at some point, Sasha’s throat apparently relaxed, at least enough that Nicke nudged deeper. How much, Sasha had no idea. But it felt deep, and even though he didn’t gag, this time, he still felt tears prickle again –

And let them fall, when Nicke stayed, again, just staying where he was, stretching him. And that was just it, wasn’t it? Nicke was stretching him open, with his cock, basically stretching his throat around his cock, like no one had ever had to stretch Sasha open.

Sasha wanted to beg him for something. He had no idea what it was, because nothing except Nicke’s grip mattered, and that cock, in his mouth and throat, and he was there because Nicke’s cock was fucking him, and he wanted to come, desperately, it hurt how much he wanted to.

“Nicke”, he tried to garble out, but couldn’t get it out. How could he? How could he ever hope to get it out, stuffed as he was?

His throat must’ve vibrated with something – and for a tiny fraction of a moment he was scared Nicke would pull out, because then he definitely would’ve started sobbing, he’s sure.

But Nicke doesn’t. Nicke just slips deeper, and now, the tears definitely fall. Fuck, Sasha’s bawling like a baby, basically, at how unbelievably deep Nicke is and how he still hasn’t taken it all, and it makes his toes curl again, except this time, it’s.

“Nicke”, he wants to sob out and wants Nicke to never let him go, ever, he needs Nicke’s hands in his hair, and he needs Nicke to keep him where he is and he needsneedsneeds Nicke to hold him in the perfect way for Nicke to fuck, and he needs that cock in his mouth –

“Come.”, Nicke orders him, voice forced out, tense, tight –

And Sasha obeys him, jerks his cock and he probably can’t come like this, has never come on sucking a cock –

Except this time, it’s Nicke’s cock in his mouth and Nicke’s hands gripping his hair and he jerks himself until he comes and the force of it bows his back until he almost forces himself deeper on Nicke’s cock by the sheer force of it –

Nicke’s grip doesn’t loosen at all.

So Sasha comes.

And comes, until he’s wrung out, limp, loose, done. Except Nicke’s cock is still in his mouth, still hard, still no orgasm. He swallows, compulsively, and Nicke makes a muffled noise. The grip in his hair loosens, slightly, but Sasha doesn’t suck him deeper, so it relaxes completely.

Now, punch-drunk as he is from his orgasm, the pure need to get Nicke’s cock deeper is gone. Almost gently, he sucks on it, swallows around it. His own hands are – not touching himself, now he can touch Nicke, cups Nicke’s heavy balls, taut and full, and he jerks off what he cannot suck into his mouth, and it feels so good. Not in the way it has felt good before: burning with want. 

This is good in – another way. This makes Nicke feel good. Sasha is sure of it, feeling the way Nicke’s hands are still buried in his hair and Nicke moans, thighs twitching, and he mumbles choked-off Swedish.

Sasha swallows around him and wishes he could stay like this forever – in this situation, the way he feels, right now. But then – he wouldn’t get to see Nicke come, and that, he needs, too. 

So he keeps on sucking Nicke’s cock, listening to the noises Nicke makes. The sighs and moans, and the way Nicke’s thighs spasm when Sasha curls the tip of his tongue against Nicke’s cock just so. And the way the grip in his hair tightens, involuntarily, when Sasha sucks him down with an almost obscenely wet slurp.

He tries to find out which way is the one to make him feel the best – and while he’s not sure he succeeds, Nicke quite obviously enjoys himself –

Until he hisses Sasha’s name, urgently, and almost rips at Sasha’s hair –

Sasha smiles around Nicke’s cock and sucks him down, again and again, until he can feel the first throb of it, which is when he lets loose, just enough that Nicke can comfortably come and he can swallow, just as easily.

So Nicke comes, and Sasha gulps it down, once, twice, and Nicke’s cock slips from his mouth. Nicke’s thumb swipes some come off his lips, which Sasha greedly sucks off too. And then he licks Nicke’s cock clean, for good measure, and because he never does things halfway. 

Nicke curses something in Swedish and falls back. His cock is softening, despite the kisses Sasha is gently peppering all over it and Nicke’s thighs, too. 

“Come here.”, Nicke slurs, but ringing with just a tad of order, so Sasha follows. Of course he does, it’s Nicke. 

When they kiss, it tastes slightly obscene, but Nicke doesn’t seem to mind, and the kiss is great. Sasha might’ve made a noise against Nicke’s lips at the way Nicke kissed him.

Nicke just grinned and kissed him again, this time with closed lips. 

“Tomorrow?”, he asks, and in one word, he manages to put in a lot of questions.

So Sasha just nods and hopes it answers at least the majority of them.

Nicke’s arm wraps around him as he curls behind Sasha’s back, and several moments later, he’s asleep. Open pants and all – but before Sasha can do anything about it, he dozes off, too, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

**Author's Note:**

> May the new year be as dick-rich as this fic.


End file.
